A couple of days ago we warned you about how god-awful the new energy drink Cocaine is. Well, apparently Rosie O’Donnell didn’t get the memo. Today on The View, she made the mistake of actually SNORTING it. What follows… well, it’s not pretty.

Blowing a snot rocket on TV. Wow. I never thought I’d say this, but man, I really miss Star Jones.

Before heading into the mindless binge-drinking of the weekend, let’s take a moment to ponder one very deep environmental quandry (via Kottke):

Q: Assuming that (a) Tom Cruise’s level of consumption is in parallel with his annual salary, and that (b) everyone on earth has the opportunity to live like Tom Cruise: How many Earths would we need to sustain this level of consumption?

A: About 2700 Earths. (based on average salary stats in Canada, and the estimation of Tom Cruise’s salary based on articles seen in sources such as Forbes, etc)

Try wrapping your brains around that! The Tom Cruise Lifestyle is one of such decadent excess that it would actually requre 2700 planets for all of us to replicate it. Sounds pretty crazy, but if you think about it, commuting around Manhattan by Plane, Train, Automobile and Speedboat in a single day would have to take its toll on the ozone layer. And the required amount of couches alone would probably wipe out an entire continent’s worth of rain forest. The more you know…

We… we don’t really know where to begin with this one. Our very foundation of what love is built on has been shaken to the core. It seems that the public has been the victim of a very cruel stunt: Lindsay Lohanmay have been paid to go out with Pink Taco owner Harry Morton. According to sources, Lindsay and Harry share the same publicist, who thought that a faux-lationship would help boost Morton’s name in the press as well as buzz around his Las Vegas nightclub. Yesterday, the two had a fully-staged lunch set up at The Ivy in Los Angeles, along with a fully functional soundtrack. (Don’t try to imagine it — video footage, thankfully, exists. Take not of the lyrics spilling out of her S.U.V.) What else is fake? Is your hair not chestnut brown? Have you never suffered from heat exhaustion? Is every crotch shot actually a prosthetic vagina? We have a lot of thinking to do.

Take a look at this picture of a supposed Robert De Niro meeting with NYC Mayor Bloomberg. There’s something about Bobby Deniro in this picture that is so over-the-top DeNiro that there is no way it actually is him. Hence our question: Is this actually Robert DeNiro? Or has the public been fooled in some sort of Dave-like scenario, a gifted Bobby D. impersonator meeting with dignitaries and the like, while the real Robert DeNiro lays incapacitated in a hospital bed under the White House unbeknownst to the first lady? You make the call!

Did you just feel the earth rumble a little bit? Well don’t sweat it: That’s just Jim Henson rolling over in his grave. The reason is simple. Muppets are dropping the F-Bomb left and right in various dirty-muppet-mashups (dot com?), and the latest offering is a doozer. So sit back, close the door, and enjoy Martin Scorcese‘s Sesame Streets.

I don’t know what it is (maybe because it’s Friday) I love so much about this, but there’s just something wonderful about watching a 7 year-old explain Donkey Kong to Mr. Rogers. And it only gets better when Fred decides to take a crack at the game himself. And then somehow even better when “Keith” (who, incidentally, would later become known for exploiting female drug addicts in Requiem For a Dream) comes to service the machine. Check it out!

Nick Carter announced that he lost his virginity to a future sex offender. No, not Paris Hilton, a different sex offender.

Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban declared that only a “moron” would buy YouTube. He then offered them $150 million.

Secret Service agents wouldn’t let Borat set foot in the White House to invite President Bush to a screening of his new movie. Not because they didn’t find him amusing, but because they were worried W wouldn’t get it.

Pink has become the face of a campaign urging gay people to come out. Because there’s just something about a heterosexual musician who’s married to a professional motocross racer that screams “I’m Queer!”

The lead singer of The Killers admitted that he hit a man with a car once, badly injuring him. He didn’t actually kill him, though, because that would’ve been soooooo cliche.

TAPES ‘N TAPES: The cassette generator is further proof that I am easily amused. (Says-It)

CONSPIRACY THEORY: Could the “Screech Doing a Dirty Sanchez” video really be a big fake-out, cynically intended to drum up publicity for a fading pseudo-star? Is god real? (The AV Club)

GRIEF COUNSELOR: The best way to deal with simultaneous birth and death of a child is to marry your sleazy lawyer. Just another lesson in Anna Nicole Smith’s Guide to Better Living Through Insanity. (Dlisted)

GLASS-HOUSE-DWELLING STONE THROWER: David Gray, who is about 4 hitless years away from being able to criticize anyone’s pop music talent. (Idolator)

Today something amazing happened on TheMegan Mullally Show. For the first time since it’s premiere, in front of a live studio audience, much to the surprise of everybody in the room… somebody laughed. Genuinely. Granted, that somebody was Megan Mullally and she was only laughing because Big from Sex And The City was tickling her, but hey… it’s a start.